Shadow of the Sonne
by SleepyShuffle
Summary: "I was their last hope, now I am their final curse." - The story of Utako Amago.   OC story, no pairings planned, read at will!
1. Prologue

**Summary; **"I was their last hope, now I am their final curse." | The story of Utako Amago, as she comes to terms with the fact she is nothing more than a shadow.

**Disclaimer; **Again, I own nothing but Utako at this point. The rest belongs to Capcom... Q~Q

[Sorry, I'm terrible at summaries X3 But I'm sure in time readers can decide a summary for themselves xDDD I was going to tag Haruhisa Amago in this but he's not actually an option xD Ah well. I'm not sure why I have an OC for the Amago...I'm not even fully convinced I like the Amago clan anyway :L Well...Enjoy~]

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><p><strong>~Shadow of the Sonne~<strong>  
><em>~Prologue~<em>

In the spring of 1541, a young baby boy was born to head of the Amago clan, a small but potentially powerful clan in the Chugoku region of Japan.

The Amago clan had risen and fallen over the years, but as fate would have it. This story takes place in some of the Clans better years, when they used to own such an amount of land they were considered a frightening threat by their neighbours.

The area the Amago clan inhabited was a merciless desert. This desert was once an anchor to the Amago. Their homes would be ripped apart in the sand storms, many a family would be lost in the depths of the sandy wastelands and at times, their enemies would drive them into the desert…and only few would return.

But as time went by, they tamed the desert, it became the biggest asset the clan would ever have. And they came to love the area more than they loved the small yet pleasant rural district they owned.

They learned how to build homes that would survive the trials and tests of the desert. They perfected maps and various others ways of navigation, passing them down the generations. And they learnt how to conceal themselves in the sands, giving a deadly ambush on the unlucky enemy.

The clans father at the time was Amago Masahisa. He was a strong sensible man for the most part, who had a strong will and a body to match this confidence. He was quite tall compared to others, well built and he prided himself on it. Some would have said he was arrogant and others would have been proud to have such a leader.

He was a pleasant man to be around, always happy with life and his friends. He loved his clan and his wife both very much and when his baby was born, he completed the circle, connecting the two things he loved most.

His wife was not old but was still young enough to elude wrinkles and grey hair. She was thin and surprisingly pale as she didn't like to venture into the desert sun much. Her hair was long and light brown, always tied up in a bun atop her head. Her small frame made some people worry that if she fell, she would shatter into 1000 pieces but she would just laugh away their worries and pat them on the back as thanks for their concern.

It was true that she also possessed a certain beauty, she was not a goddess mind, merely a pretty mortal. But still to her husband, she was perfect.

He loved her as much as he loved his clan, he would do anything to make her happy or content, although she promised as long as she was with him, it was more than enough.

So when the beautiful woman gave birth to his son, Masahisa's life was complete. He cherished the boy dearly from the moment he was born, raising him alongside his most beloved wife. Together they raised him in a way only two completely dedicated parents would.

Although as the years flew by like hours, Masahisa started to notice his son was weak. As five years passed, Masahisa started to doubt that his son was the perfect heir he'd always dreamt of.

His son was frail, skinny and downright bony, there was no muscle to him, not even any baby fat. His face was very feminine, long eyelashes, curved jaw line and such deep enveloping eyes, not sharp or frightening like a warrior, he seemed better suited as an actor. Even his posture and stance were acutely female.

And as the days slowly dragged by, he noticed his sons flaws more and more. He was reluctant to tell his wife about his misgivings, he wasn't sure how she'd react. So he tried to avoid her whenever he could. But when other clan members started talking in hushed tones, Masahisa couldn't stand the thought of his son being ridiculed.

Still not wanting to tell his wife, he took time from his busy schedule to make an effort to educate the five year old boy on how to be a better man, it was a ridiculous exercise to begin with, yet Masahisa couldn't see it that way.

He tried to teach him to walk like him, to follow in his footsteps. He attempted to train him in combat, to fight like his shadow. He made a conscious effort for him to speak like him, to remind everyone he was the heir to the clan.

The boy couldn't walk like him, he was too graceful and didn't have the heavy pounding footsteps of his father. The boy couldn't fight like he did, he was too weak to wield the same two-handed sword. The boy barely picked up a few of his fathers words and accents before his father gave up on these lessons.

Feeling frustrated, angry and scared, Masahisa did not want to discuss this with his fellow clansmen. He didn't want them to see the stressed bundle of nerves he had become.

Masahisa went straight to his wife, and told her everything. About how he believed his son was a failure, how he would never be fit to lead the Amago clan, he wasn't sure what to do. His wife just laughed and pushed back the hair on his head, telling him he worried too much and that his son will always have time to grow. After a brief pause he smiled too and forgot his worries.

Only five weeks later he came back to his wife and told her he wanted another son, before it was too late. He had heard the crude remarks about his son, seen the other retainers laughing at him from behind screen doors and he couldn't take it anymore.

His son _was _a failure. He was not fit to rule the Amago, he could barely look after himself, in a short time period of just two weeks he had become ill on three separate occasions as a result of his poor immune system.

She was hesitant, she knew her son wasn't destined for failure. But she felt like it was her fault. Their child had inherited her genes, he was weak because of her. His skinny frame, his weak defences, his scrawny muscles were all connected to her.

She loved her husband dearly and would never deny him anything he wished for, it felt as if this were a second chance. So she put a smile on her face and simply nodded to his request, the guilt seemed to lift as they agreed.

Forty-one weeks later…she died…giving birth to a screaming baby girl.

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><p><strong>A.N. <strong>Well the rest is going to be in First-Person POV. The prologue just sounded better in third .  
>Hope that wasn't too painful for you to read xDDD Any thoughts? Not flames...X3 Although helpful criticism is most welcome :D Even though it is just the first one...#sigh# ^ ^;;<p> 


	2. Chapter One

**Notes;** I feel like this is just another introductory chapter TT-TT Which it is really...nothing much happens. But uhh yeah, I'm calling it chapter one :L #sigh# I wish I could make them longer TT^TT Anyway enjoy this slightly boring chapter xDDD They'll get more interesting I promise, just needs more time X3

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><p><strong>~Shadow of the Sonne~<br>**_~Chapter One~_

Father was said to have cried months after my birth…

After my mothers death.

On one occasion he shut himself in his study for over a week, refusing to eat, refusing to speak with anyone. Another time, rumour has it that he rode out into the desert and cried so much, a small lake of tears was said to be created beneath the scorching sun.

These events had no effect on me, I was just a small baby being cared for by my mothers ladies in waiting. But the effect on the clan was devastating.

Practices, accounts and currency were all in disarray as my father seemed to have forgotten he even ran a clan. His father had considered volunteering to take his place back as clan leader, but he felt he was too weak.

None of them had seen Masahisa this torn since the stillbirth of his first born son. They had no-one to turn to, my brother was only five years of age and I did not yet have the capacity to speak.

In the end my grandfather stepped forward and helped to run the clan smoothly for a few weeks. After two months, father took back his responsibilities as leader, despite that fact everyone could see he was mentally unfit to do so.

Later _Oba-san, _would tell me that this is the first time he came to see both me and my brother ever since the events. I could not remember what happened as a small babies memory is not very practised.

But Oba-san tells me Masahisa was pleased to see us both and greeted us with tears and a hug. Oba-san's other friends agree that Masahisa did shed tears, but not one's of joy, as they later said he left me and my brother alone after just five minutes spent together.

I chose to believe Oba-san, until I met my father and learned the truth.

It's difficult to say when my story began really…with my mothers death? Or with the first birth of the Amago, many, many years ago.

For me it started as soon as I turned ten, this was the first time I could use my speech and memory to a decent enough effect, to cause events to stay in my innocent childlike mind.

Up until my tenth birthday, which was not celebrated in any way, I had always gone to be schooled by the elderly maid in the servants quarters. The house servants made sure to transport me between rooms as to avoid whatever my father was doing on his tight schedule, although they told me it was for several other reasons.

The servants quarters are very small and dingy to my eyes, but through the eyes of a child, it was big enough to house a bear and that was very big indeed. I was always excited to stumble into the room with my clumsy footsteps and crash onto the floor, hopefully looking up into Azami's eyes, ready to learn something new.

My mind raced with what I might learn that day, perhaps some new words, maybe we'd learn how to play an new instrument, or maybe we'd simply sit and talk to practise my Japanese.

Azami would always look back with conflicting emotions, she was happy to teach me, yet as I later found out, I was a burden to her, adding on more chores for her that she missed during lessons.

Her name means 'flower of the thistle' which I thought was an accurate description for Azami. She was a well-built yet bony woman who was, like a thistle unpleasant to hug, yet there was something about her that made you stop and admire her.

Maybe it was the strong determination in her eyes or simply her powerful stance that made you take a moment to look. It made you want to hug her, yet if you did, you'd know the pain of the thistle would still be there, her scrawny bones would dig into you. You couldn't just have the flower, the thistle would come with it.

As I stumbled into the room some late Thursday morning Azami looked down at me like she always did and gave a small nod of acknowledgement, before with great difficulty she sat cross-legged in front of me, her kimono riding up her legs but thankfully only as far as her knees.

And we began our daily lesson, of which I was only to happy to engage with. Aside from conversations with Oba-san, this was the only social interaction I had, so like a dry sponge I soaked up as much as I could before I was whisked away to the second highest floor of the building and placed in my nursery.

The servants room was big, but my nursery was even bigger, the wide wooden floor was so wide and vast I used to pretend it was entirely my own home, and set up little buildings here and there with the wooden furniture. Only to come home after tuition the next day and discover the maids had packed it all away again, but I didn't seem to care because for me, this was entertainment.

Some times I just used to run round it pretending I was a bird, free to fly anywhere and do what I pleased, the books that lined the walls didn't really interest me at all. Even as a child I secretly knew this was my form of escapism…but, if I was to be compared to a bird, it would most likely be a chicken.

They are nurtured and cared for, at the farmers orders, yet they don't have any say in what they do or receive and they certainly cannot hope to fly away and survive in the outside world.

I would spent whole afternoons gazing out into the sky wishing and waiting to grow my wings and fly away, until Oba-san would come in and call me for supper.

Once again I had to eat in a separate room containing only I, Oba-san and one of the senior maids, although once the maid was my own age and I remember how even then she refused to interact with us.

Oba-san was a dear friend of my mothers who took my care upon herself with my mothers death. Although she held a certain resentment towards me for taking my own mothers life, the majority of the blame fell on my father.

She believed it would have been my mothers wish that I lived on. So while all the others ignored my presence and refused to acknowledge me because of the massive bout of misfortune I'd brought upon my own clan and my father, Oba-san looked after me. Despite the fact she now cared for the clans 'curse' she still held a lot of respect and status.

It would be wrong to say that she raised me as one of her own, because she really didn't. She couldn't because of how I killed her only true best friend, but she did her best. Her schedule was also a busy one too so she couldn't spend too much time with me.

She actually assisted my father and fellow warriors in commanding a small division of musketeers. They were all females recruited from our villages who wished to learn how to fight instead of staying at home and provided a safer environment in the villages. Although she herself did not get involved in any battles as she was too old, she would relay messages and train them very hard so that they were the best of the best.

This was a very time consuming job, she had to buy new stocks of weaponry, which usually meant going to port and trading with westerners. She had to host meetings and training classes as well as spend money on the whole thing, with only a tight budget from my father, so she spent a portion of time doing accounting.

As you might have guessed, she didn't tell me much of her life in case she spilled details of my father.

But we seldom ate in silence, Oba-san's questions about my day normally filled the air and she usually stopped and listened to my every detail, occasionally scolding me for eating with my mouth full. These were the times I cherished most.

Actually being able to talk to someone, who was willing to hear me talk back. Azami would only ask me questions on our subject of study and would shout at me if I started talking at length about something else.

Oba-san sometimes re-acted like Azami if I questioned her about my father, although she wouldn't shout, she would just become defensive and demand a change of topic to which I usually gave in to. But on some nights, I did not.

I'm not sure what it was, maybe it was the hot spice from my food going straight to my head or perhaps I'd spent too long running about my room as a bird. But I definitely talked about my father.

"Oba-san, where is my father?" I asked simply enough.

I saw her jolt ever so slightly, if I were as old as she, I would've missed it. She pursed her lips and looked at me down her bony nose,

"Your father is very busy, you cannot expect him to come running to you on demand. Now, why don't you tell me what Azami taught you" she said, before returning her gaze to her meal.

"Today Azami helped me play shamisen again, I'm sure father would love to hear me play" I said observing her as she finished chewing her mouthful, with a small frown still on her face.

"You are not good enough to host an audience yet. What you need to do is more practise" she said wisely, holding my gaze as if it were a challenge to her. Although for me, it was not, I was merely a curious child.

"But surely my father would be happy to see my progress. If I were him, I would gladly come visit me, just to hear me play" I said smiling slightly.

"You know nothing of your father" Oba-san breathed out almost instantly in such an eerie tone that my smile was swept right from my face and by coincidence one of the nearby flames went out.

A quiet chill seemed to hang in the air, as this time I was the one to turn my gaze back to my food.

Having never seen my father, it was understandable why I wanted to meet him for once. Yet I had no idea of the amount of stress and heartbreak I caused him, merely by existing. How could Oba-san tell me that he blanked me from his mind so much that three quarters of the time he forgot about my existence.

At this point I hadn't even known I had a brother. My superiors were saving that piece of information until I was old enough to comprehend the situation apparently.

The rest of the supper was spent in silence, save for the maid apologetically re-lighting the candle, before I was sent to get changed and go to sleep in my futon.

At night I dreamt. Every night I would dream, sometimes I would find comfort in my dreams, other times they would make me confused and the other kind would hold no meaning at all. But whatever I dreamt about I was always sad to wake up in the morning, sad to leave my happy world or adventure behind.

And be dragged back down into this dull and uneventful place which was called my life. But I put a smile on my face and made do. For I knew as soon as the day was over I could return to my futon and dream again once more.


End file.
